


So He Won't Break

by AnaliseGrey



Series: It's Just a Challenge [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of captivity, Captivity, Clone-theory compliant (sort of), Coran the Gorgeous Man with a Plan, Despair, Dissociation, Flashbacks, Gen, Hallucinations, Hopeful Ending, Humiliation, Isolation, Mind the Tags, No really- please mind the tags, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sensory Deprivation, Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro was in the military and his vocabulary shows it, Shiro's low self-worth is practically it's own character, Sleep Deprivation, Suicidal Ideation, Torture, White Room, Whump, awesome!Coran, compelled silence, temporary limb loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Keith would never  forgive himself.He hadn’t known. None of them had.They’d been so glad, grateful even, to get Shiro back, that none of them had questioned it. They hadn’twantedto question it.They hadn’t questioned how his hair was so long or how he’d escaped. He was so much like their Shiro, if quieter and with new scars, that it hadn’t seemed important.There was so much they hadn’t questioned, and now all they had were questions, because the person they’d thought was Shiro...wasn’t.Elsewhere, Shiro wakes up and realizes he's in a whole world of trouble.





	1. Way Down We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shoot. I’m so excited to start posting this! I want to thank the ever-wonderful [Unforth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth) for her cheerleading and writing expertise, and also [Cyborgtopus](http://cyborgtopus.tumblr.com) for their beta-ing efforts and additional ego boosts. 
> 
> There are a lot of tags for this fic, many of which I've never had occasion to use before. Not all of them appear in the first chapter, but I figured it made sense to put them all in up front, so people have an idea what they're getting. For chapters with potential triggers, I'll add more detailed information in the chapter end notes so you can check before reading to make sure it's something you want to see. If you see something you think should be tagged, please let me know, and I'll do my best to add it. I think I've got everything, but I am only human, and mistakes happen. Please, stay safe. No fic is worth your mental health.

**_Now_ **

Keith would never forgive himself.

He hadn’t known. None of them had.

They’d been so glad, grateful even, to get Shiro back, that none of them had questioned it. They hadn’t  _ wanted  _ to question it.

They hadn’t questioned how long his hair was or how he’d escaped. He was so much like their Shiro, if quieter and with new scars, that it hadn’t seemed important.

There was so much they hadn’t questioned, and now all they _had_ were questions, because the person they’d thought was Shiro... _ wasn’t _ . 

The copy started to break down. 

They’d thought Shiro was sick, all his trauma finally catching up with him; it wasn’t an entirely unreasonable assumption. 

Coran ran a detailed medical scan, and they realized something was  _ very  _ wrong. Not only was it not Shiro, but Haggar had left a very explosive surprise behind in case of discovery.

Most of them managed to get clear, the clone looking scared out of his mind once he’d realized what was about to happen, still mid-sentence yelling at them to  _ run _ when the bomb had gone off.

There hadn’t been much left of the clone after that.

Pidge had spent half a day in a pod to recover, but the rest of them had emerged from the blast physically unscathed. Mentally, though? Emotionally?

They were all a wreck.

They’d watched someone with Shiro’s face, who they’d worked closely with for months, blow up right in front of them. The clone also meant that they still didn’t have  _ their  _ Shiro back. It meant that in all likelihood he was with the Galra again, and they’d had him the whole time.

Black was having fits, roaring, raging, near-destroying the hangar it was housed in. Allura only managed a brief connection to figure out what was happening before the lion pushed her back out of its mind. It was furious,  _ livid _ . It had been fooled, and now it couldn’t sense its paladin at all. Black couldn’t find Shiro, which meant he was either dead or out of range somehow.

It had been  _ months _ .

Shiro hadn’t wanted to talk about his year in captivity, but the pieces Keith had coaxed out of him late at night when neither of them could sleep had been terrible to say the least; and that’s how Shiro had been treated when he was nobody,  _ before  _ he was a high-priority target. He’d only been the Champion then, treated as they’d treat any other popular gladiator. It made Keith feel sick every time he thought about it, because he knew whatever horrors he imagined happening to Shiro were likely a hundred times worse in reality.

They were working with the Blade of Marmora, doing everything they could to try to track Shiro down, but the project that had created the copy must have been highly classified because none of the Blade members had been aware of it.

Two movements went by before they heard anything.

Keith was in the control room with Allura when Kolivan called in. As always, he was direct and to-the-point.

“We have him.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and Allura took a surprised breath next to him. There was no need to specify who Kolivan meant.

“Where...how…?”

Keith hadn’t seen the expression on the Galra before, but he thought Kolivan looked uncomfortable.

“He only surfaced a few quintnants ago. It took time to be sure it was him, and to mobilize to get him out. We are on our way to you, but before we arrive, there are some things you must know. While he is most assuredly your Shiro, he is not the same man he was. They-” Kolivan paused, choosing his words with care. “They were not kind.”

Keith’s blood ran cold, and he could tell from Allura’s expression that she felt similarly. Nobody would have classified Shiro’s previous treatment as ‘kind’.

Allura straightened, her expression hardening, steeling herself for whatever they were about to hear, and Keith was glad he hadn’t been in the control room alone when the call came in.

“Tell us.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

The call ended, and for a moment, Keith and Allura just stood there, silent, the hum of the machinery and their breathing the only sound.

Keith was still processing, trying to wrap his mind around what Kolivan had said. The rage he always had simmering below the surface kept trying to bubble up, wanting to lash out, but he knew it wasn’t useful right now, and definitely wasn’t going to help Shiro.

“We need to tell the others.”

Keith looked over at Allura. She was still standing tall, though her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides. He nodded in agreement, not trusting himself to speak yet. Allura tapped at the comm button on her console and called the others to come meet them, that there’d been news. They answered in affirmative, and that left the two of them a few minutes to prepare. The others were going to be excited, and Keith hated that they had to tell them what Kolivan had said.

‘Not kind’ didn’t even  _ begin  _ to cover it.

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all came in together, chattering between themselves with Coran following a few seconds after.

They all looked at Keith and Allura expectantly, excited, hopeful. Keith opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a complete loss as to how to start, how to tell them. He was immensely grateful when Allura stepped in and began talking.

“Kolivan has contacted us. They found Shiro.”

Noise erupted as the others started to talk excitedly over each other, asking questions. Allura held her hands up for silence, and her serious demeanor must have gotten through because they quieted very quickly.

“They have found him, however he is in rough shape.”

The others looked a combination of confused and concerned; Pidge spoke up first.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Allura’s jaw worked a moment before she continued, and she managed to keep her voice mostly even. “They decided that if they could not have him as their weapon, they would instead make of him an example.”

“How bad it is?” Lance asked, quiet and far more serious than Keith had ever heard him.

Keith and Allura shared a look, and Keith answered.

“It’s bad.”

“Will he be ok?” Hunk had his arms partially wrapped around himself. “Like...is he just really injured and we can pop him in a pod, or…?”

“Their goal was to break him as thoroughly as possible.” Allura stated bluntly. “They wanted to subjugate and crush his spirit, and they did everything in their power to do so. It’s had, and likely will continue to have, a lasting impact. He may yet recover, but it will take a great deal of time and care. The Blades are bringing him here as quickly as they are able. They’ve said there was still some sort of device attached, but they did not have the resources to remove it safely, so that will be our priority once he arrives. His right arm has also been damaged, and will need seeing to soon as possible.” She looked over at Hunk and Pidge. “I hope you two will be able to help with that part especially. From what Kolivan has said, it will likely have to be removed and replaced.”

Hunk and Pidge shared a look, and Pidge nodded decisively. “We’d already been designing a replacement arm in case Shiro ever wanted to try. We’ve taken a lot of scans of Shiro’s arm when we were checking it for hidden programming and basic maintenance. We can also put a call out to the Olkari for help.”

Allura nodded. “Good. You two go prepare however you can. Lance, go with Coran and make sure the infirmary is ready for his arrival. Keith, if you could please go and provide an escort for them? I’m sure they’re fully capable of handling it, but I’d still feel better with you out there.”

Everyone left the control room, in a hurry to complete their assigned tasks. Shiro was coming home, and they wanted to be ready.

Allura wasn’t sure it would be enough.


	2. Trophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second after he realizes he’s laying down, the pain hits, and he wheezes out a breath of surprise. He hurts everywhere, a dull, aching throb, and he doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. God, even his _hair_ hurts, though there’s a sharper stab of pain at the base of his skull, near the top of his spine.
> 
> Cracking his eyes open, Shiro freezes, unsure what to make of what he’s seeing.
> 
> He’s in a room, and everything is white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost thought I wasn't going to get to post this tonight! (we've had wind storms, and lost power for a bit). But I will not be deterred!
> 
> Thanks again to my wonderful cheerleaders, [Unforth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth) and [Cyborgtopus](http://cyborgtopus.tumblr.com/), without whom this fic would not be possible.
> 
> Some of the tags are starting to apply in this chapter. If you're concerned, feel free to hit up the end notes and see what's up before reading.

**_Then_ **

For a few blissful moments, Shiro doesn’t remember anything.

It’s quiet, peaceful, and for a fleeting second, everything is ok.

As he becomes more aware, though, he realizes something’s not right.

They were fighting Zarkon and they’d done something... _ he’d  _ done something, with the black bayard. 

It’s too quiet. He should be hearing the noises from inside Black’s cockpit, should be hearing comms chatter, but it’s so quiet his ears are buzzing with it.

A second after he realizes he’s laying down, the pain hits, and he wheezes out a breath of surprise. He hurts everywhere, a dull, aching throb, and he doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. God, even his  _ hair  _ hurts, though there’s a sharper stab of pain at the base of his skull, near the top of his spine.

Cracking his eyes open, Shiro freezes, unsure what to make of what he’s seeing.

He’s in a room, and everything is white. 

It’s a decent sized room, maybe 25 by 25 feet, with a toilet in the corner, but that’s it; otherwise it’s just a white room. Shiro glances down at himself and to his dismay realizes that he’s no longer in his paladin armor, but is now dressed in short-sleeved white scrubs. The material is soft against his skin to the point he can barely feel it, and his feet are bare. Around his left wrist is a metallic band in silver-white. Shiro examines the band but can’t find any seams, let alone the locking mechanism. Without help or specialized tools, it’s not coming off.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he recognizes trouble when he sees it.

He gets up and moves around the room, exploring, checking to see if there’s any sort of door, or cameras, but he can’t find anything. He tries lighting up his Galra hand, but nothing happens. When he punches the wall, it actually hurts, jarring up through the attachment point; the increased strength it usually affords him isn’t there. Sighing in frustration, he sits with his back against the wall, and reaches up to explore the source of pain on his neck. He pauses when his fingers encounter what feels like a metal disk. The skin around it is tender and warm to the touch, and when he tries tugging at it a lance of pain shoots up into his head. He snatches his hand away, collapsing back against the wall, fighting down the wave of nausea the action’s induced.

Something about the room makes him uneasy, a roll of dread in the pit of his stomach, though he can’t explain why. He thinks it’s familiar somehow, but doesn’t know if the missing memory is from Earth or his time in captivity.

He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting there when the hairs on his arm stand up. There’s a flash of purple, and there she is, the star of some of his worst nightmares: Haggar. Shiro scrambles to his feet, and he doesn’t know whether to attack her or run.

“Champion.”

Shiro can’t bring himself to attack, but he does manage not to shrink away at the sound of her voice. “I’m not him anymore.”

“No, it would seem you are not.” The contempt is thick in her voice, and Shiro’s unease grows. He knows, to a certain extent, how she treats him when he’s Champion. He doesn’t like it, and it never goes well for him, but at least it’s a part he knows how to play. This is entirely new, and he feels the weight of dread in his stomach grow heavier.

“You could have been our greatest warrior, and instead chose to use the gift I gave you against the Empire. That cannot stand.”

Shiro stares at her in open disbelief.

“Gift?  _ Gift _ ? You took my arm! You kidnapped me and two other people and made us slaves! How can you even…” 

With no warning the device on the back of his neck does something; it feels like it’s lighting up, like his hand, even if he can’t see it. His vision whites out and when he regains his senses he’s on his hands and knees, panting.

“What...what did you-” Shiro lets out a strangled groan, clenching his teeth. He doesn’t white out this time, but it’s a near thing, and he isn’t sure this is better.

Haggar moves a step closer, and it takes everything Shiro has not to flinch back.

“You have been a disappointment. A very  _ public  _ disappointment. Since you will not be our weapon, you will be our trophy. You will be what we display to our enemies so they know the price of going against the Empire, so they know what happens to those who try.”

Haggar reaches down, effortlessly grabbing Shiro by the throat, lifting him completely off the ground. He grabs uselessly at her arm and wrist, trying to pull her off, to breathe, but she’s too strong.

“The control device has been calibrated to react to your thought patterns. It will respond to reinforce my wishes.”

Shiro opens his mouth to spit a curse at her in low Galran, and the device activates again, though briefly. A warning.

“All things, good, bad, or otherwise come from me, and happen only as I will it. You will only eat, sleep, and breathe as I let you.” Her hand squeezes tighter around his throat in emphasis, and Shiro’s vision starts to creep black at the edges. “You will only  _ live  _ if I will it. I will always be watching.” She throws him back onto the floor where he lands hard, coughing, sucking in painful gulps of air.

“You will be silent. Resisting or fighting me in any way will be swiftly punished, as you are learning.”

Shiro pushes himself shakily to his feet and looks her in the eye, keeping his voice strong and defiant as he can.

“Fuck you.”

The control device activates and doesn’t stop until he’s passed out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> -white room scenario, with potential for psychological trauma  
> -Torture: Shiro is shocked with a control device
> 
> I told myself I was gonna wait a couple days between chapters, but well...we see how long _that_ resolve lasted, right? I'm going to try to hold out a bit longer for chapter 3, but I guess it depends on how much encouragement I get for posting it earlier...I'm easily persuaded by comments, just saying ;)


	3. Day Three: Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith didn’t know what to say. He’d thought Shiro was being quiet because he was still in shock, not because he was being forced to stay quiet.
> 
> “Shiro, how long have you had the device on you?”
> 
> Shiro was scrawling on the tablet before Keith had finished asking.
> 
>  _Whole time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my eternal thanks to [Unforth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth) and [Cyborgtopus](http://cyborgtopus.tumblr.com/) for their encouragement! 
> 
> See end notes for more information about the potential warnings.
> 
> Also! To my lovely commenter, 'Heh'...I've responded to some of the comments in my other works that you left, if you're interested in going back to look :)

 

**_Now_ **

Kolivan’s transport landed gently in the hangar, and the paladins, Allura, and Coran waited impatiently while the seal on the hatch released.

The door from the hallway opened and Keith came barreling in, skidding to a stop next to Hunk, panting to catch his breath. He’d flown Black in escort and had gotten back to the general hangar quickly as he could.

The transport finished opening and everyone held their breath as Kolivan stepped out, moving a floating gurney along with him. A lump that could only be Shiro was on it, though he was so covered in blankets they couldn’t actually see him.

Everyone was surprisingly quiet as Kolivan pushed the gurney forward, and when he spoke, his voice was hushed.

“They had him isolated for some time before we reached him. The blankets are to protect him as he is easily overwhelmed right now. It would be wise to keep the number of people around him to a minimum, at least to start.”

Nobody said anything for a moment, then Coran quietly cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was a fraction of his normal volume.

“I’ll take number one to the infirmary. From what I understand, the implanted device will need to be removed, and we’ll have to do some scans in preparation for that.”

Kolivan nodded, and turned to Keith.

“You should go with him. It will help him to see a familiar face, especially in the medbay.”

Keith nodded, and followed after Coran as he took the gurney off toward the infirmary. If he paid very close attention, Keith could see the blankets shift with the rise and fall of Shiro’s breathing. The movement hitched sometimes, and Keith desperately wanted to reach out and touch Shiro, comfort him, but he also didn’t want to startle him.

They reached the medbay, and Coran dimmed the lights before pushing the gurney into place near the diagnostic equipment. 

“Alright then. Let’s see what we have here. Shiro, I’m going to move the top part of these blankets down; I’ve dimmed the lights for you, so it shouldn’t bother your eyes, but if it does, let us know, and we’ll lower them more or cover you up again. Is that ok?”

A pause, and then a movement near where Shiro’s head should be, but it was hard to tell what it meant.

“I’m sorry, number one, but I didn’t understand that. How about this- if you can stick your hand out from the blankets and give a thumbs up or thumbs down in an answer that would work as well.”

Another pause, and Shiro’s left hand snaked out, slow and shaky, but raised in a thumbs-up.

Coran grinned, his mustache twitching up. “Excellent! I’ll go slow, and let me know if you need me to stop.”

Keith held his breath as Coran started peeling the layers of blankets back. The pale tuft of Shiro’s forelock appeared first, then the rest of him inch by painful inch. Keith gritted his teeth together to keep from snarling when the device on the back of Shiro’s neck came into view. The skin around it was red and angry looking, with small branching lines from it that Keith recognized as electrical burns. Kolivan had told them about it, and while they knew it was some kind of control device, they weren’t sure how it worked, and didn’t want to accidentally hurt or kill Shiro by removing it incorrectly; they’d thought it best to wait until they had the technology from the Castle available to assist. Keith was glad they’d waited, though it infuriated him that Shiro’d had to endure it that much longer.

Coran vehemently muttered something that Keith’s translator didn’t pick up, and Keith looked over in surprise. Coran had just uncovered Shiro’s right arm; or, rather, what was left of it. From the elbow joint down was missing, and the part still attached was crumpled in, a loose pair of wires poking out the bottom; it looked like someone had crushed it like a soda can. They’d all seen evidence of how strong Shiro’s arm was, they’d all seen what he could do with it. Keith couldn’t imagine the force necessary to do that kind of damage.

Coran made quick work of the rest of the blankets, and Keith moved toward the foot of the gurney so it would be easier for Shiro to see him as he placed a light hand on Shiro’s ankle; Shiro barely twitched at the contact. 

Over the course of the next hour, Coran methodically went through a number of scans. Keith watched as Coran worked, trying to stay out of the way, but doing his best to stay in Shiro’s line of sight. Coran finished a scan, and set the scanner down. “I think we’ve gotten most of what we need. The cuff should be easy to remove once I get the proper tools, however, the  _ control device _ ,” Coran spat out, disgust lining his words, “That will take a very delicate and precise touch to remove. It will be more invasive, and we’ll need to sedate you first. It’s  _ barbaric _ , how they-” Coran cut himself off, visibly pulling himself together. Shiro barely reacted to the outburst at all, a minute flinch at the raised voice his only response, and Keith only grew more worried. 

“Anyway, number one, just one last thing before I call in the others. I’d like to take a look at your arm, if you’re amenable.”

Shiro nodded, and Coran urged him to roll to his left side so his right arm was more accessible. Shiro followed the direction easily, but his breathing started to pick up, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Keith frowned, and crouched down next to the gurney so he was almost eye-to-eye with Shiro.

“It’s ok, Shiro, he just needs to check the arm so we can help you. Pidge and Hunk are already working on a replacement for it, and we’re gonna visit Olkarion so they can help, too. Soon it’ll be better than ever.”

Coran carefully lifted what was left of Shiro’s right arm, going over it with another scanner he’d picked up. Keith had his eyes fixed on Shiro, so he saw it the moment Shiro’s face drained of color and his eyes squeezed shut. Coran did something else, and it was like Shiro had been punched. He curled forward, left fist spasming, his mouth opening in what would have been a scream if he’d let any sound come out.

“Coran, stop!”

Coran immediately halted what he was doing, and carefully as he could, put Shiro’s arm back down.

“Shiro-” Keith was at a loss. “Shiro, you need to tell us what’s wrong so we can help you.  _ Please _ .”

Shiro shook his head, eyes squinting open, and he made an aborted move with his right arm before wincing and switching to his left, working his arm up to hover his hand over the control device. Shiro looked at Keith, gaze intent, willing Keith to understand.

“The...the device keeps you from speaking?”

Shiro huffed out a breath, frustration evident in his features.

“Hold on a tic, might be able to help with that.”

Keith glanced up as Coran quickly moved to a cabinet on the side of the room. He rummaged around and came back with a tablet and a stylus.

“Best I can do on short notice, I’m afraid. It’s not synced up to have your alphabet on the keyboard yet, so you’ll have to write directly, but we’ll get this updated soon as we can for you.”

Keith helped Shiro to sit up and balance the tablet on his lap, letting Shiro lean against him. Shiro took the stylus, and Keith couldn’t help but notice how Shiro’s hand shook. It took him a couple tries, but he finally managed to scrawl out  _ hurts me when I talk  _ on the tablet in stark, shivery letters.

Keith didn’t know what to say. He’d thought Shiro was being quiet because he was still in shock, not because he was being forced to stay quiet.

“Shiro, how long have you had the device on you?”

Shiro was scrawling on the tablet before Keith had finished asking.

_ Whole time. _

Months. He’d been forced to be silent or in pain or both for  _ months _ . Keith swallowed his rage back down, letting it simmer in his gut. He’d let it out on a Gladiator later in the training room, but right now Shiro needed him. So instead, he took a deep breath, let it out, and refocused.

“Ok. Here’s what’s going to happen.” Keith pushed himself up to standing, helping ease Shiro back down again, and looked at Coran. “We’re going to call Hunk and Pidge in, and get that  _ thing  _ off his neck. His arm can wait until he’s under,” Keith looked down at Shiro, catching his eye. “If that’s ok with you, Shiro? Nod or thumbs up for yes, thumbs down or head shake for no.” 

Shiro gave a tired thumbs up, eyes already sliding closed again.

“While he’s out, you can check his arm, do what you can, but getting that thing off him is goal one.”

Coran responded with a quick nod, already moving to the comm panel to call Pidge and Hunk down. Keith looked down at Shiro, who had turned his face in towards the pillow on the gurney. He looked exhausted, worn down, face thinner than it had been before he’d gone missing. His hair was shaggy, though not as long as the clone’s had been. He looked smaller, diminished somehow, and in that moment Keith hated Haggar more than he’d ever hated anyone or anything in his whole life. That she’d done this to anyone, that she’d done this to  _ Shiro _ ; just because she could, all because she wanted to make a point. And the poor clone- Keith still saw the clone’s face just before he blew up every time he closed his eyes to sleep.

Shiro shivered, and Keith pulled one of the blankets back up to his shoulders, gently brushing Shiro’s bangs off his face and settled in to wait with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Description of Shiro's destroyed prosthetic. Shiro unable to easily communicate his distress/pain, though Keith immediately notices and puts a stop to it. 
> 
> Come say hi to me on Tumblr! Find me at my main fandom blog, [Kitkatcabbit](http://kitkatcabbit.tumblr.com/), or my writer blog, [Analisegrey](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/).


	4. No One Will Save You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He discovers early on that any kind of vocalization sets off the device, so singing or speaking to himself is out unless he wants to suffer through it. He can still think the songs or words, but speaking them gets him increasingly stronger jolts from the control device.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the ever-wonderful [Unforth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth) for her cheerleading and writing expertise, and also [Cyborgtopus](http://cyborgtopus.tumblr.com) for their beta-ing efforts and additional ego boosts. 
> 
> Please see end notes for chapter-specific warnings.

**_Then_ **

The first few days are spent in a haze of rage, frustration, and pain from the device on his neck. It takes time to figure out what will set it off and what won’t, and even then if he thinks too hard about something Haggar doesn’t like it gives him a warning shock.

Working out doesn’t activate it, so he spends a lot of time exercising. Basic calisthenics are first, though they don’t engage his mind as much as katas do. Moving through forms helps him keep his mind clear and body active; if he’s not thinking about anything in particular, there’s nothing to punish, and he finds the smoothness with which his body flows through the movements calming.

He discovers early on that any kind of vocalization sets off the device, so singing or speaking to himself is out unless he wants to suffer through it. He can still think the songs or words, but speaking them gets him increasingly stronger jolts from the control device.

There’s no way to track time. The lights in the room never go out; food and water, if and when they arrive, don’t follow any kind of pattern. He discovers there’s a small part of the wall across the room from the toilet that lifts at the bottom which they slide food and water pouches through. When it opens, he’s expected to push any trash he has through first, then retrieve what they push through; there’s no direct contact with whoever is feeding him. He doesn’t always get food  _ and  _ water, but he has noticed that if he’s only getting one of them, it’s always the water. The food he gets is the same bland nutritional mush he got as a gladiator. It’s meant to keep him alive, and not much else; practically flavorless, it has the consistency of lukewarm oatmeal, and is close to the same color as the room he’s in. He never thought he’d miss food goo so much.

He starts to think they’re not going to do anything but just keep him here, locked away, but he should know better by now.

They begin with sleep deprivation. The lights, if possible, get brighter; any time he starts to fall asleep, a painfully loud noise blasts into the room, startling him back awake. He can’t tell how long this goes on, just that he’s so tired he hurts, and even just laying down soon triggers the noise response. He thinks it’s at least a few days of this, him trying to stay up and pacing or jogging around his cell, because he’s getting to the point where even the noise isn’t going to keep him conscious if he sits down. They start using the neck device to shock him awake; the noise he might be able to sleep through, but the pain from the device is very hard to ignore. He hopes he’ll just pass out, but his body is stubborn. It doesn’t give in easily, however much he sometimes wishes it would.

The sleep deprivation eventually ends with Haggar appearing, looking him over and telling him he may now rest. 

He snarls at her, and the snap of pain is worth it.

For the first time, the lights in the room go out completely as she vanishes, and they stay off for days. When he first wakes, he thinks they’ve blinded him and he struggles through a panic attack. Eventually the food hatch opens, the light from the outside flooding in, and he realizes what’s happened. He has just long enough to orient to it before it closes again, and he crawls forward on his hands and knees, feeling around carefully in front of him to find the food and water they’d pushed through. 

He’s allowed to sleep as much as he wants now, but he finds waking from a nightmare into unrelenting pitch blackness has its downsides as well. He tries to stay awake as long as he can, but in the end he always succumbs. He relearns how to be silent when he wakes from the throes of a nightmare. As a gladiator, it wasn’t safe to show weakness, even if some of the other fighters were sympathetic. Jolting awake from a night terror is bad enough without the accompanying claws of pain if he yells.

Haggar eventually brings the lights back on. She visits occasionally, and he learns the cuff on his wrist is a type of restraint apparatus. The first few times she visits, he tries to lunge at her, and she catches him easily, tossing him aside or pinning him as if he weighs nothing. The fourth time she appears, he comes at her and instead of reaching for him, Shiro feels the cuff on his wrist hum just before it slams down to the nearest surface- the floor- taking him with it and bringing him to an awkward hunch on his knees. He pulls with both hands at the cuff where it’s stuck to the floor, but it won’t budge. He can feel the panic starting to rise in his gut as Haggar floats closer to him. 

“You will learn to behave in my presence.”

Shiro can’t help himself from taking a swipe at her with the Galra arm. She vanishes in a puff of magic, reappearing behind him, getting a hand on his left wrist just as the cuff releases from the floor. She grasps it, lifting him into the air, carrying him along as she crosses to the wall. He tries to fight, but he can’t get purchase on the floor, and the control device activated the moment he started fighting back and hasn’t stopped yet. By the time she reaches the wall Shiro’s vision is swimming in and out, and again he hopes that maybe this time he’ll pass out.

He’s not that lucky.

She slams his wrist to the wall and the cuff sticks, leaving him dangling, faced out towards the center of the room. His feet don’t reach the floor, leaving him hanging from his left wrist with no way to take his weight off it.

“You  _ will  _ learn obedience.” she hisses at him, and then she’s gone, swallowed in a swirl of sickly purple.

It’s almost a full day before the cuff releases from the wall, dropping him to a silently crying heap on the floor; it’s longer until he can move his left arm without wanting to scream. The next time she comes, he doesn’t fight her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes instances of: compelled silence, sleep deprivation, torture.


	5. Fall into Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t know what she _wants_ from him. 
> 
> The witch comes at random, like the food; sometimes she talks at him, and sometimes she hurts him, sometimes both, and he never knows which it will be, or if there’s any reason or purpose behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, but kinda heavy, kids. A lot of the tags come into play in this chapter, so please, have care. More specific warnings in the end notes for those who want to check before reading.

**_Then_**

He doesn’t know what she  _ wants  _ from him. 

The witch comes at random, like the food; sometimes she talks at him, and sometimes she hurts him, sometimes both, and he never knows which it will be, or if there’s any reason or purpose behind it.

Then she stops coming at all, and even the food and water pouches arrive and disappear while he’s sleeping. There’s no contact or interaction of any kind for days, and at first he’s just grateful to be left alone.

As the days, then weeks go on, though, nothing changes. The silence is deafening, ringing in a way he’s only mostly sure is in his head. He starts seeing things out the corner of his eyes, flickers of color and movement, but when he turns to look, there’s nothing there, just the same white walls he’s been starting at. That’s when the memory slots into place, why the room had filled him with such unease at the beginning. He remembers now, back to one of his Garrison classes, being told about rooms like this; sensory deprivation and isolation are incredibly effective against the human psyche. He knows the hallucinations will only get worse over time if nothing changes, but what can he do? He doesn’t have tools, and his metal hand is useless; he’d tried marking the wall with the Galra arm in his first few days, but whatever the walls are made of, they’re stronger than his hand, and there isn’t so much as a nick in the wall's surface for his efforts.

He sits against one of the walls and thinks. He’s worrying at his thumbnail when suddenly it comes to him, how to do it. It’s not an entirely rational thought, but he feels- no, he  _ knows-  _ if he doesn't do  _ something _ , the hallucinations will get worse.

Rolling up his pant leg, Shiro starts scraping his thumbnail back and forth over the same spot on his calf. Just the change in sensation from the overwhelming constant  _ nothing  _ he’d been experiencing is like a balm to his nerves. Things will be ok, it’s just a room. A boring room designed to drive him insane, but just a room. This bit of control is his. It hurts, but it's a hurt  _ he _ chooses, and that makes all the difference.

He presses harder, and after a few minutes small beads of blood well up, the red bright and jarring compared to the all-encompassing white of the room. He just stares at it, briefly stunned he’s done it, and gathers some of the blood on his metal fingertips, sliding it around in wonder. He stands, turns to the wall, unsure of what to do next, when Haggar is suddenly  _ there _ , her hand catching like a vice just above his metal elbow.

“Is the knowledge no one is coming for you finally beginning to sink in? Or perhaps you were merely bored.” She looms over him, hand squeezing, and Shiro winces, feeling something in the joint give way, the metal making a worrying sound under her fingers. She grins, but it’s not a happy look, and it sends a chill down his spine. A small, primal part of him wants to  _ run _ , to get as far from her as he can. The hand holding his arm lights up purple, and her grin gets wider. “If pain is what you desire, I can be accomodating.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

The pain is all-encompassing, and takes up the vast majority of Shiro’s concentration, now.

When Haggar broke the Galra arm, she’d been exceedingly thorough. There must be a residual part of his nerves in the workings, or it wouldn’t hurt this much. There are wires trailing from where she’d ripped the bottom half off, and the one time he tries to touch them the pain is so sudden and overwhelming he screams before he can stop himself. The combination of the arm and the control device is too much, and he finally passes out.

The pain hasn’t lessened, but he’s got more of a handle on it, at least for now. He’s learned to scream silently, face screwed up and jaw clenched tight when it crests over him like a wave, his left hand pounding on the floor as he breathes through it.

On some level, he knows.

He knows this isn’t sustainable, that everyone has a breaking point. He tries to drink the water when it comes, though not all of it stays down, and he picks at maybe one meal in three. The pain steals his appetite and his energy; it’s exhausting to hurt this much all the time. As much as he keeps telling himself that the others are coming for him, it’s becoming harder and harder to believe. It feels like a lie, and Shiro has always tried to be truthful with himself, even when it hurts.

He considers actively trying to end things, but at the first fleeting thought the control device goes off more intensely than it ever has. He ends up writhing on the floor, clawing at it, hoping in some distant way that Haggar will hear his thoughts and make it stop, even if only for a moment.

There’s a movement in the air, so light he almost misses it, and it’s her. She stands there, watching silently even as the device feels like it’s tearing him apart. He somehow manages to crawl to her, grasping at the hem of her robes. He can’t bring himself to speak, that’s a lesson he’s learned too thoroughly, but he mouths the word and hopes it’s enough.

_ ‘Please _ .’

Haggar looks down at him, like something scraped off the bottom of her shoe; but then the corner of her mouth turns up, barely a smile, and the device finally, blessedly, shuts off.

“Excellent.” ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> -torture, unspecified (Haggar hurts Shiro)  
> -Isolation  
> -Sensory deprivation/white room torture  
> -hallucinations resulting from sensory deprivation  
> -Self harm (Shiro scratches his leg with his thumbnail until he bleeds)  
> -temporary limb loss/traumatic loss of the Galra arm  
> -Suicidal ideation (Shiro briefly considers trying to end his life)
> 
> Whew. I think that's all of them. If you see anything I missed that should be tagged/noted, please let me know so I can add it.


	6. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine.
> 
> Except for all the ways in which it _really_ isn’t.
> 
> They’ve told him about the copy, how they didn’t even know at first he was missing (and yeah, _that_ had set off a few nights of new and terrifying nightmares). They tell him they’d started searching immediately once they knew, and it was the Blades that found him. They all look guilty when they look at him, Keith especially, and they keep apologizing to him for not knowing, for not coming sooner. He wants to tell them it’s okay, they couldn’t have known. He wants to tell them it’s fine, that _he’s_ fine.
> 
> But he doesn’t want to lie to them, so it’s easier to say nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than half way through! Only two chapters left after this!
> 
> See end notes for more specific tagged warnings.

**_Now_ **

Everything is fine.

The implantation site from the control device healed up nicely in the pod after the removal surgery. All that‘s left now is a new set of scars: the center one where it had connected to his nervous system, a circle of small divots where the device had been latched on with small metal claws, and the extended webbing of lines where the power had surged through when it was active. While he was under, Pidge, Hunk, and Coran had also cleaned up his right arm as much as they could. They’d removed the damaged plating and torn wires, capping the end of the port where it connects to the remaining parts of his upper arm; they’re waiting on anything more extensive until they can visit Olkarion. In the meantime, Shiro doesn’t have to worry about hitting his arm against anything, or catching the wires, and he’s not in constant pain anymore.

So yeah. Everything is fine.

Except for all the ways in which it  _ really  _ isn’t.

They’ve told him about the copy, how they didn’t even know at first he was missing (and yeah,  _ that  _ had set off a few nights of new and terrifying nightmares). They tell him they’d started searching immediately once they knew, and it was the Blades that found him. They all look guilty when they look at him, Keith especially, and they keep apologizing to him for not knowing, for not coming sooner. He wants to tell them it’s okay, they couldn’t have known. He wants to tell them it’s fine, that  _ he’s _ fine.

But he doesn’t want to lie to them, so it’s easier to say nothing.

He’s safe, or as safe as any of them ever are. Everyone is being overly nice, almost solicitous. Nobody disagrees with him, raises their voices near him- they won’t even joke around near him. He walks into a room, and conversation stops. The others speak to him so gently, it’s like they’re afraid he’ll break. ‘Not a surprise’, he thinks with a derisive snort. After all, he  _ did  _ break. He doesn’t know what would have happened if he’d been left in Haggar’s tender care.

He’s slowly starting to speak again, though it comes in fits and starts, and he can’t always do it when he wants to, which enrages him. He’ll open his mouth to speak, and nothing comes out, and he doesn’t know  _ why _ , and whoever he was trying to speak to will invariably give him a look laced with pity, and it makes him want to  _ scream _ . 

None of this feels right. Pidge and Lance should be teasing him about his hair, Hunk should be making terrible puns. Keith shouldn’t look at him like he’ll disappear if he closes his eyes. It grates on his nerves, leaving him alternating between immense frustration and a feeling of surreality. He’s in the Castle, he  _ knows  _ he is, but it doesn’t feel like the one he left. There are times he thinks he’s still trapped in the white room and doesn’t know it.That he’s hallucinating this whole thing, that he’s finally snapped, and none of this is real.

He wants to feel something-  _ anything-  _ that tells him he is where he thinks he is, but he doesn’t know how. He wants to train until he collapses, tire himself out so the nightmares might stay away, but he’s still locked out of the training room until Coran clears him.

Shiro wanders one evening, long after the others have gone to bed. Tonight isn’t a night for sleep. He’d laid there and tried for an hour, and when he  _ did  _ sleep, the sleep he managed had been riddled with dreams of Haggar, purple light, and flashes of what would have happened, what he’d have become if he hadn’t been rescued, if nobody had ever realized he was missing.

He still can’t get in to the training room, so instead he walks, no destination in mind. As he walks, his mind spirals, reminding him of everything that could have happened, everything that  _ did  _ happen. With nothing to distract him, the feelings of frustration and anger mount, until it’s suffocating. He wants to  _ do  _ something, to act, not just walk around like a ghost. His frustration reaches critical mass and he gives voice to a scream he’s been choking down for weeks (months if he’s honest), and slams his left fist into the closest wall.

His fist connects, and even though it’s the wrong hand, the jolt of impact is enough to send his mind teetering.

_ “If pain is what you desire, I can be accomodating.” _

_ Her hand flares purple and squeezes his Galra arm, just above the elbow. There’s a horrifying crack and squeal as she twists her hand, and he drops to his knees, trying not to scream in agony as she rips the lower half of his prosthetic off. He tries to breathe through it, tries to stay quiet, because he’s not sure he’ll survive the pain of his arm and the control device together right now, but it’s so  _ hard _ , and god, he just wants it to be over.  _

_ She pushes him over with her knee, and he’s not in a condition to even think of resisting. He topples over and lays there on the floor panting, tears streaming down his face, shuddering, unable to process. _

_ Haggar leans down with a sneer, places a surprisingly light hand on his shoulder. _

_ “Shiro, are you alright?” _

_ And that’s not right, she never asked that, she never- _

“Shiro?”

Shiro sucks in a breath, reality snapping back into place around him.

Coran has backed up, though he’s still crouched down nearby, his hand in the air from where he’d reached out to touch Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro realizes he’s on the floor on his hand and knees, his face wet, and he can’t stop shaking. God, he used to have more control than this.

“I’m-” his voice cracks, stops, and he snarls, hits his fist on the floor, forces the words out, however much they fight him. “I’m fine, Coran. It’s ok.”

Coran frowns, though his voice is gentle when he speaks. “I don’t think you are, number one.”

Shiro snorts. “Have to be. In a war, Coran.”

Coran sniffs, his mustache twitching as he stands, and offers a hand to Shiro to help him up.

“I believe it’s time you and I had a chat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> -Shiro has difficulty speaking when he wants to  
> -Shiro experiences a flashback episode


	7. Who Will Save You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro finds that giving in is a slippery slope.
> 
> He’d fought so long and so hard, and now that he’s stopped, he can feel his will crumbling, falling out from under him like the edge of a sand dune. All of this pleases Haggar to no end, but Shiro can’t find it in him to care. When she’s pleased she doesn’t hurt him as much.
> 
> It feels like it’s been days since she took his arm, and she’s been visiting him more and more often. He doesn’t fight her, and tries to follow the commands she gives, accepting the pain when he can’t. This is his life now, nobody’s coming. He may as well get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fic Fact!
> 
> The song this chapter is titled for ("[Who Will Save You Now](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TR7f9f4z5TE)", by Les Friction) became my favorite song from the whole playlist, and also became my concept of Shiro's theme from season 5 and likely season 6 as well. Cause seriously... "Go tell the world that I'm still alive..." <3 ugh, I love it.
> 
> See end notes for more specific warnings.

**_Then_ **

Shiro finds that giving in is a slippery slope.

He’d fought so long and so hard, and now that he’s stopped, he can feel his will crumbling, falling out from under him like the edge of a sand dune. All of this pleases Haggar to no end, but Shiro can’t find it in him to care. When she’s pleased she doesn’t hurt him as much.

It feels like it’s been days since she took his arm, and she’s been visiting him more and more often. He doesn’t fight her, and tries to follow the commands she gives, accepting the pain when he can’t. This is his life now, nobody’s coming. He may as well get used to it.

He’s leaning against a corner of the room, eyes closed and his mind off somewhere else. He’s been trying to remember his room at the Garrison in as much detail as he can. Once he’d graduated, he’d gotten temporary quarters for the few months before the Kerberos mission; it was expected that upon his return he’d find permanent on-base housing, or get a place in town. He snorts quietly to himself; that hadn’t worked out as planned.

He’s trying to visualize the books on his bookshelf when there’s the tell-tale whisper of air movement that indicates Haggar’s arrival. He’s moving before his eyes are all the way open, rolling forward into a kneeling position, left hand palm-up on his thigh, eyes down but chin tilted up, baring his throat to her. She’s drilled this into him until it’s become instinctive; when she arrives, he’s to assume this position. Resistance or non-compliance will be punished.

“Hello, pet.”

Shiro twitches, fights to keep his face neutral. He hates it when she calls him that, but tries not to let that thought form too solidly; he has a feeling today will be hard enough without starting it with correction.

“Time to test your behavior. Do not disappoint me.”

Shiro doesn’t like that. Different is never good. The room isn’t great, but it’s a known factor. When she approaches and pulls a strip of cloth from her robes, he eyes it warily. As she wraps it over his eyes and ties it in the back, he can’t help the way his breathing hitches then speeds up. Oh god, what now?

A hand on his shoulder, squeezing enough to hold, but not enough to hurt, and there’s a dizzying sensation of motion without moving. If her hand wasn’t on his shoulder to anchor him, he’s sure he’d be sprawled out trying not to fall off the floor.

The sensation stops, and Shiro can’t help the shaking that’s taken him over. He doesn’t know where he is, he can’t see what might be happening around him, or what might be coming for him. He’s vulnerable, only Haggar’s will keeping him safe.

The grip on his shoulder tightens, pulls, and he stumbles to his feet to follow it. The points of her nails dig in, directing him forward, and it’s hard, it’s  _ so  _ hard, the panic almost overwhelming him; it’s all he can do to put one foot in front of the other, to breathe through it. He doesn’t want her to think he’s resisting- he’s not, he  _ swears  _ he’s not- but it’s difficult to walk blind without being able to trust who’s leading him.

The hand pulls him to an abrupt stop and both hands grab at his shoulders to spin him around to face the direction he’s just come from. She shoves down hard, dropping him painfully to his knees before he can lower himself. He barely catches his balance with his left hand, and the wires from the broken prosthetic brush something; he swallows down the cry of pain that wants to burst out. He pulls his right arm in close as he can to keep it from hitting anything else.

“Position, pet.”

He pushes himself back up, left hand still shaking but now settled on his lap, and he lifts his head up. No one can see his eyes with the blindfold on, but he doesn’t dare to look anywhere but down. Somehow, she’ll know.

There’s talking around him now, clattering noises, and as his immediate panic starts to abate, the smells hit his nose, and the penny drops. Whoever’s around him, they’re eating. There’s a brush of fabric on his left, the sound of a chair, and he can feel the hum of Haggar’s magic vibrating lightly through the cuff on his wrist, making his hair stand on end from proximity. He realizes he’s knelt at her feet like a dog, like the example she’d mentioned at the beginning of all this, and it  _ burns _ , the humiliation that he’d thought would have been leached out of him by now. He can feel echoes of the rage he’d felt, the anger and the willingness- no, the  _ need-  _ to fight. But before it can crest and spill over into action, it dissipates. What would rebellion achieve? Hasn’t he suffered enough? Isn’t he suffering still? Why make things worse than they have to be.

His body settles further into position, muscles he hadn’t been aware were tensed loosen, and his breaths even out. There’s a brush of fingers through his hair, a whisper of praise from the witch, and he mentally retreats back to his room at the Garrison, now cataloguing the video discs he’d owned.

 

Three days later, the Blade of Marmora rescues him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> -Despair (Shiro is convinced nobody is coming to save him)  
> -Disassociation  
> -Humiliation


	8. So He Won't Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room is smaller than Shiro had been expecting; it looks like a more intimate version of the lounge the paladins usually hang out in, and the furniture looks similar as well. There are squashy looking couches, with some overstuffed single chairs that look like they’d be comfortable to sprawl out on.
> 
> “Why don’t you have a seat, number one.” Coran’s voice is gentle, hushed compared to a moment ago, and Shiro isn’t sure how he’s going to get through this conversation. He’s not sure he _wants_ to; if he thought he could find his way back to his room on his own, he’d be tempted to run back there and hide in bed, nightmares be damned.
> 
> Shiro goes to the closest couch and wedges into the corner, pulling his legs up under himself, and resting his left hand on his lap. The position echoes painfully in his mind, but he refuses to move; he’ll sit on the quiznacking couch how he pleases. His knuckles still throb, bruised, but they don’t feel broken as he flexes his hand.
> 
> “When I was a bit older than you, by Altean standards, I was captured by Galran forces.”
> 
> Shiro startles at that, surprised. “What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fic fact #2!
> 
> At long last, the namesake chapter. The song this chapter is based on, ["So He Won't Break"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzlGhIpJ1FI) by The Black Keys is the song the whole fic spawned from. While a different song has since taken it's place as my favorite, I think this is maybe my favorite chapter.
> 
> Finally our boy gets some catharsis.
> 
> See end notes for specific warnings.

**_Now_ **

The Castle of Lions is enormous. While the paladins have been living here for awhile now and are familiar with a lot of it, they haven’t had time to explore even a fraction of it yet, mostly sticking to the parts they use regularly: the common rooms, the kitchen/dining room, the living quarters, the hangars. The Castle was originally built with a much larger support staff in mind, and it has the space to house them, rooms and facilities for the hundreds of beings that no longer walk the deserted halls.

Shiro isn’t familiar with the route Coran is leading him down, their steps ringing out in the quiet corridors, heading ever deeper. Shiro’s never been this far into the Castle, and he quickly loses track of where they are. He makes sure to keep Coran in his sights; he doesn’t want to get lost down here.

Coran turns one more corner, then makes a pleased noise.

“Ah! Here we are. Do follow me.”

The room is smaller than Shiro had been expecting; it looks like a more intimate version of the lounge the paladins usually hang out in, and the furniture looks similar as well. There are squashy looking couches, with some overstuffed single chairs that look like they’d be comfortable to sprawl out on.

“Why don’t you have a seat, number one.” Coran’s voice is gentle, hushed compared to a moment ago, and Shiro isn’t sure how he’s going to get through this conversation. He’s not sure he  _ wants  _ to; if he thought he could find his way back to his room on his own, he’d be tempted to run back there and hide in bed, nightmares be damned.

Shiro goes to the closest couch and wedges into the corner, pulling his legs up under himself, and resting his left hand on his lap. The position echoes painfully in his mind, but he refuses to move; he’ll sit on the quiznacking couch how he pleases. His knuckles still throb, bruised, but they don’t feel broken as he flexes his hand.

“When I was a bit older than you, by Altean standards, I was captured by Galran forces.”

Shiro startles at that, surprised. “What?”

Coran nods, fingers twisting at the end of his mustache. “It was early days still in the war, they hadn’t grown to be as cruel as they are now, but they were still more inclined towards brutality than any of us had realized. I was a captive for a Spicolian movement, and spent most of three quintants in a cryopod after I was rescued.”

Shiro is struck momentarily speechless. He forgets sometimes, that as goofy and lighthearted as Coran often acts, he’d been a soldier and a trusted advisor to King Alfor, and he’d have had all the training and experience to go along with those positions. Coran is just as much, if not more so, a soldier as the rest of them.

“I...I’m sorry, Coran.”

Coran waves him off with a gentle smile. “No, you misunderstand. I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me. I’m telling you this so that when I tell you that you can talk to me about anything, you know you’re not going to shock me. You might surprise me a bit, but nothing you can say will be so horrible that you’ll scare me off. I know as the leader of Voltron you might feel you can’t share with your fellow paladins, which is fair, but leadership is a heavy burden, and I want you to know that you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Shiro opens his mouth, closes it. Coran is right, to a degree; he  _ doesn’t  _ feel like he can talk to the other paladins about this. Some of it is that he’s the leader, and he should be able to handle what the war throws at him. His job is to to be the head, and he doesn’t want to show weakness, perceived or otherwise. 

But that’s not the full extent, and he knows it. 

How can he burden the others with this? They know he wasn’t treated well, they saw some of the evidence very clearly written on his body. He can’t help that; but how can he purposefully weight them down with what he went through? How can he tell them that their leader, who’s supposed to be their foundation, their strongest link...broke?

Coran waits quietly while Shiro sits there, trying and failing to find the words to say what he’s feeling. It’s a battle between knowing that if he’s going to get any better, he needs to talk about it, but also wanting to bury the memories and feelings so deeply that they’ll never see the light of day again.

In the end, it’s a quiet, reassuring rumble in the back of his mind from Black which gives him the courage to find his voice.

“I didn’t think anyone was coming.” The words try to stick in his throat, tearing like a thorn bush as he forces them out. “I didn’t think anyone was coming, that I was going to be stuck there for the rest of my life, living like her  _ fucking  _ dog.” Shiro huffs in frustration- at the situation, at the Galra, at Haggar, but most of all at himself. “When they caught me, the first time, I made a deal with myself that I’d never beg. They had my body, and they could- and  _ did-  _ do whatever the fuck they wanted with that. But I wouldn’t let them have  _ this _ , they couldn’t-” Shiro takes a deep, shuddering breath, and looks down at his left hand flexing on his lap and continues, quieter. “I wouldn’t let them have that. I’d scream and cry, or whatever else I had to do to make it through, but I wouldn’t let them have the satisfaction of begging them to stop when I knew they wouldn’t. I had my dignity, even if I had nothing else.”

Something moves into Shiro’s line of sight, and it takes him a moment to realize Coran is holding out a handkerchief to him. Shiro takes it on reflex, and it’s only then he notices he’s started crying again. He scrubs the handkerchief over his eyes, and barrels on, the words coming in a flood now.

“I promised myself I’d never do it, that I’d never sink that low, but every time I think there’s nothing else they can take from me, they prove me wrong.” Shiro looks up at Coran, who’s listening intently, face a study in patient empathy. “I don’t think I actually wanted to die, but I thought about it. It didn’t feel like there was another way out. Nobody was coming for me, and I- I was so  _ tired _ , Coran. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to be  _ there _ , either, and there didn’t seem to be a third option. She found out, I don’t know how, but she was always watching, and that fucking device just wouldn’t stop, and I couldn’t  _ take  _ it anymore. I- I begged her to make it stop.” Shiro laughs, a bitter, hurt sound. “They never even asked me anything. I was there for months, and they never once asked me anything. Nothing about intel, or allies, or where the lions or Castle might be...nothing. And I broke anyway.”

Coran looks at Shiro, considering.

“If they  _ had _ \- asked you something I mean- what would you have done?”

Shiro’s answer is immediate. “I wouldn’t have told them anything.”

“And if they had hurt you?”

Shiro quirks a brow. “They  _ did  _ hurt me.”

“Yes, but if they did it with the intent to interrogate you, to get you to divulge sensitive information…?”

“I still wouldn’t have told them anything.”

“Why not?”

Why not? Shiro thinks it’s fairly obvious.

“I could never...there’s no  _ way  _ I’d put the resistance- no way I’d put all of  _ you-  _ at risk. I’d rather die.”

Coran nods. “Yes, you likely would, my boy, and I’m guessing the Galra knew that as well. When it comes to protecting or saving others, your strength and spirit know no bounds. It’s one of the reasons you match so well with the black lion, and it’s one of the qualities that makes you such an excellent leader.” Coran’s smile turns sad, almost apologetic, and he reaches out, tapping a finger lightly on Shiro’s chest to punctuate his next words. “However, when it comes to protecting  _ yourself _ , your motivation isn’t always as stalwart.”

And Shiro doesn’t know what to say to that because, well, yeah. When it comes to others, Shiro will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, up to and including giving his own life; but when it comes to keeping  _ himself  _ safe, that’s a different story. And he isn’t sure he can even say  _ why _ . He doesn’t have a death wish. He wants to live, desperately so, if how he’d acted in the Arena was anything to go by. And yet, he can admit he has a certain recklessness he’d have called out any of the other paladins for, and  _ has _ , in Keith’s case.

Coran clears his throat, drawing Shiro’s attention back from inside his head.

“Unfortunately, there’s no immediate way to fix these kind of problems, number one. We can’t just pop you in a pod and ‘poof!’ you’re right as rumblax. This sort of healing takes time. It will be difficult, we’re in a war, as you said, and time is not something we have an overabundance of. But if something is important enough, we make it a priority and find the time. And  _ you _ , Shiro, are important enough.”

The intensity Coran is leveling at him makes him want to squirm, acutely uncomfortable. The worst part is that if it was literally anyone else, he’d be 100% on-board with it. But as usual, when it comes to himself, it’s different, harder to see the logic even if rationally he knows it’s true.

Coran stands up, patting Shiro’s knee. “As I said, number one, no quick fix. This doesn’t have to happen overnight. Small steps are equally good. I am always here to talk to if you require it, and I’m sure your fellow paladins or Allura would be willing to listen if you ever wanted to talk to them. It will be a long, difficult, and likely frustrating journey, but I have no doubt that with help, it’s something you can accomplish.”

Shiro unfolds himself from the couch and stretches, following Coran towards the door. He still isn’t sold on the idea of sharing this with the paladins, or with Allura, even though they’re on more even footing. He’s willing to at least think about it, though.

He finds he does feel better for having talked to Coran, and when he tries to sleep again, there are no dreams to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> -Shiro mentions his brief desire to kill himself.


	9. Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, ever so slowly, things start to improve.  
> Talking with Coran helps break through some sort of wall that Shiro hadn’t been aware of.  
> The first time Lance offhandedly makes a joke about something Shiro says, the whole group freezes, but then Shiro laughs, delighted, and everyone joins in. It’s everything Shiro has been missing, and it feels like a turning point. Things get easier, interactions with the other paladins and Allura smoother, and he starts to feel more at home in his own skin again.

**_Now_ **

Slowly, ever so slowly, things start to improve.

Talking with Coran helps break through some sort of wall that Shiro hadn’t been aware of.

The first time Lance offhandedly makes a joke about something Shiro says, the whole group freezes, but then Shiro laughs, delighted, and everyone joins in. It’s everything Shiro has been missing, and it feels like a turning point. Things get easier, interactions with the other paladins and Allura smoother, and he starts to feel more at home in his own skin again.

That isn’t to say there aren’t bad moments, too.

Keith finds him one day, dozing on a couch in the lounge, and opts to be quiet and to let Shiro rest.

But Shiro is a light sleeper now, has been since Kerberos, and in his half-awake, half-dreaming state only notices quiet air movement, and a presence nearby, and without thinking is on his knees on the floor, left hand on his lap, head up. The following silence is deafening, and in the space of a second Shiro realizes what’s happened, remembers where he is, and is utterly mortified, face burning crimson. Then he looks over at Keith, who’s stuck where he stands, frozen horror and guilt on his face; he looks gutted. Shiro’s talked to Coran a little more about what he went through, what the last few weeks leading up to his rescue were like, but he hasn’t mentioned any of it to the other paladins or Allura. He hadn’t wanted them to know.

“I-” Coran has told him repeatedly not to apologize, that he shouldn’t be sorry for any of the things that happened to him, that none of it was his fault. He’s thought that maybe, of all the paladins, if he were going to talk to any of them, it would be Keith. He didn’t want Keith to find out like this, but Shiro rarely gets what he wants. Shiro huffs a sigh and pushes himself one-handed back up onto the couch. “Come sit with me?”

Keith blinks, breaking out of his shock, and he moves, less graceful than Shiro thinks he’s ever seen him, and sits down carefully next to Shiro.

They talk for a solid hour, and while he doesn’t let too much slip yet, Shiro starts to haltingly explain what happened. Keith listens, and Shiro can see he’s trying hard to keep a neutral face throughout. Eventually, Shiro snorts a quiet laugh, and can’t help but smile.

“You’re allowed to react to what I’m telling you.”

Immediately, Keith’s face screws up into a scowl, and his hands fist on his lap. “I can’t  _ believe  _ she- well actually yeah, I  _ can  _ believe she’d do something that awful. I just...I’m so  _ angry  _ for you, Shiro. You seem so calm about it and I just want to rip her to shreds. I don’t understand how you’re not pissed off.”

Shiro stares at Keith a moment before he starts laughing so hard he slides off the couch they’re sitting on. Keith eyes him with concern when Shiro keeps going, trying to hold his stomach and sides with one hand and ends up tipping over onto the floor, gasping for air between giggles.

“Um...Shiro, are you ok?”

The look of confused concern on Keith’s face just sets Shiro off again, and it takes a few minutes before he can get himself under control. Surprisingly, he feels better, lighter, though that might be the oxygen deprivation from laughing so hard.

“Oh Keith...I’m- I’m fine, it’s-” It made more sense a few moments ago, but now that Shiro has to try to articulate it to someone else, it’s harder. Shiro wipes tears of laughter off his face, and shoves himself up off the floor to lean back against the couch, tilting sideways to rest his shoulder against Keith’s legs. “I  _ am  _ angry. I’m so beyond angry, I don’t even have the words for it. She’s stolen my life twice now, and fucked me over pretty badly both times. So yeah, of course I’m angry. I’m fucking  _ livid _ . But being outwardly angry all the time gets me nowhere.” Shiro bumps his shoulder against Keith’s knee. “Stalking around like a pissed-off cat won’t do a thing to her, and it’ll do nothing but make me miserable. I don’t want to let her win again, especially when she’s not even trying. The best revenge is to move on in spite of whatever she’s done to me.”

Keith nods, thoughtful. He reaches a hand down to squeeze Shiro’s shoulder, and gets up, stretching.

“Wanna go spar?”

Shiro’s eyebrows pop up. “I’m still locked out of the training deck.”

Keith’s mouth twitches from a smile into a full-on grin. “I’m pretty sure I can sneak you in. C’mon, can’t have you getting soft or anything.”

Keith soundly kick’s Shiro’s ass, and it’s the most fun Shiro’s had in months.

~~~~~~~~

They visit Olkariion, and with the combined efforts of Team Punk, Coran, and Ryner, Shiro gets a new arm. It’s powered by an embedded crystal courtesy of the Balmerans, and Shiro can’t stop staring at it.

Whereas the Galra arm was a device of pure function with no particular regard for its host, his new arm combines form and function, and was obviously designed with him in mind. The metal is some sort of alloy the Olkari use, a light pearlescent silver. It’s so much lighter than what he’s used to, Shiro has to keep checking to be sure it’s really there. It has the same kind of grip and enhanced strength the other arm had, but without sacrificing his well-being to achieve it; he hadn’t realized how much his shoulder regularly ached until it suddenly doesn’t. They’ve managed to carry over the Galra interface capabilities, but now when his hand lights up, it lights up the faint blue of Altean technology instead of the bright purple of Galra tech; he’ll never admit it, but that alone is worth the cost of losing his arm a second time.

With the new arm comes the ability to pilot again, and Shiro barely keeps himself from bolting to Black’s hangar the first moment he can. When Allura suggests with a knowing smile that maybe they should run some flight drills to see how his new arm handles during combat, Shiro races to his Lion, and he and Black are in the air before anyone else. Black’s purr rumbles happily in the back of Shiro’s mind, glad to have its proper paladin back where he belongs. He revels in the joy and freedom of flight, and as he sees the other Lions fall into formation behind him, he grins. He calls for them to form Voltron, and it’s like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you guys, it's finished. o.o
> 
> I never thought I could write something this long, and yet here we are.
> 
> Once again I'd like to give a shout out to both [Unforth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth) and [Cyborgtopus](http://cyborgtopus.tumblr.com/). Without their help, this wouldn't have been possible.   
> I'd also like to thank everyone who has (and those who will in the future!) kudos'd and commented. Your comments give me life, and encourage me to keep writing :D
> 
> Please come flail at me/send me asks/prompts/etc on my tumblrs, at either [Kitkatcabbit](http://kitkatcabbit.tumblr.com/) (my main fandom blog) or at my writing blog at [AnaliseGrey](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> This fic [has a playlist!](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/post/172587393343/playlist-for-so-he-wont-break)
> 
> Each chapter is named after a song that helped influence the writing of the respective chapter. For most it's the general mood, though for some the lyrics do kind of apply.
> 
> Feel free to come find me on Tumblr and say hi! I can be found on my fandom page, [Kitkatcabbit](http://kitkatcabbit.tumblr.com/) or on my writing page, [AnaliseGrey](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com). Feel free to send me asks or speculation, or what have you. It feeds me :D
> 
> And comments feed my muse! Help keep it alive!


End file.
